It’s quarter to 2am, the baby has been asleep for hours, so have the rest of the littles. I just can’t bring myself to go to my bed. I’m exhausted, but I’m just sitting here catching up with people and life in these few precious, quiet, moments I won’t have in the daylight hours.
I’ve watched ridiculous shows as I’ve folded piles of laundry.
I’ve read encouraging blog posts on motherhood. (This one is really good!)
I’ve let my mind wander back to days past.
Even though my mind is telling my heart to go to bed, I can’t bring myself to close my eyes. When I open them it will all still be here. The diapers, the laundry, the messes I can’t keep up with. The moment I close my eyes, I will wake up to find an adorable little face needing help pouring her breakfast.
The moment I close my eyes, I will wake up to boys fussing at each other, a toddler screaming “Mom” and a beautiful baby girl who needs me to sustain her. It seems the peak of foolishness to be sitting here typing when I know I’ll pay for it tomorrow, but I LOVE this time.
Tomorrow brings the possibility of re-heated coffee and falling asleep on the floor of the office while tiny ones play around me. But tonight, even if just for a few quiet moments, I remember who I was before I had puke on my shirt and poop in my hands. Tonight I can listen to old country songs and thank God he healed my broken hearts and gave me a man who adores me and our children. But the moment I close my eyes, I will wake up in a world, I love, but never dreamed of, a world of blessings but frustration.
Tonight I can push down the guilt and mom war shame of not having tomorrow’s dinner prepped. As soon as I close my eyes I will wake up and see the moms who woke up 3 hours before me (in my time zone even!) and I will feel like I’m doing motherhood inferior to them, but just for a moment…
The activity of my 6 dear children in 8 calendar years will wake me not only from the momentary dream, but from my dissolution of the woman I once was. Truthfully as I sit here late night occasionally and miss her, I remember she wasn’t that great. She didn’t know who she was or have much purpose, but she was just so carefree.
So as I sit here finishing this post, I wonder if I should even bother to get under the covers of my cozy bed or just wait until the next child wakes up to either pee, be consoled from a bad dream, or nurse. Even this time isn’t really my own…
Deep down I know this season is precious and one day I will wish I was here again, but for tonight, with folded laundry stacked up in my peripheral, I will not look forward to closing my eyes.